This is the title of a book written by the wife of the suicide bomber that killed 7 CIA employees in Afghanistan.
I really just can't think of a more fantastic analogy. It isn't really accurate, ideologically speaking, but it will make me snicker every time I walk into a Starbucks and see an upper-middle class, dreadlocked college sophomore reading Nietzsche while proudly sporting his Che shirt as evidence of his open-mindedness and intellectual sophistication. Not that I didn't already have good reason to laugh at that guy, but whatever.
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
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